


Counting Seconds

by ChuChuMarshmallow



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M, hurt/comfort?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:37:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChuChuMarshmallow/pseuds/ChuChuMarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the first time he’s ever seen that look before, even back when they used to hang out all the time, and there’s a fleeting thought that if he had been even slightly late five days ago, he would’ve never gotten to see this. It’s a look that causes Yata’s chest to tighten, and he feels his face getting warmer before sputtering out, “W-What’s that look for, you bastard?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Late  
> Character/Pairing: SaruMi (Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki)  
> Warnings: Fluff fail  
> Word Count: 1754  
> Notes: Unbeta'd, experimenting with writing. At first I wanted angst but it turned into fluff at the end and I don't know where my life turned to get to this point. uwu; Also, why are summaries and titles so hard??

 

 

 

The wind rushes past him, lapping hungrily at his hair as he kicks, propelling himself forward faster and faster and _it’s not fast enough_.

 

He feels that he’s never gripped the bat tighter than how he is right now. There’s a pounding in his head and he’s not so sure if it’s from adrenaline or if it’s a headache from him skipping breakfast, but all of this was only idle mental chatter until he skids to a stop in front of a park, chest heaving with each hard breath.

 

It’s early afternoon and the park should be packed with people, because it’s a pretty popular place, but there are no civilians loitering around right now. There’s blues and there’s greens, and there’s a few of his own clansmen who got there before him who are mostly on the sidelines, and it’s just as chaotic as they had described it.

 

Amber eyes scan around the area, because it’s not the same as it was before, he couldn’t just _rush_ in anymore, he had to be careful, had to assess the situation first and then make a decision. He notes that the Blue King isn’t present, probably off in a separate area like he usually is, the cold hearted woman lieutenant is on the frontlines, barking orders just as quickly as she dodges blows and gives her own, but there’s something else that’s throwing him off amidst the battle.

 

 _He_ is missing.  

 

“Yata-san!”

 

Kamamoto’s call grants his attention and he’s off in that direction, murmuring excuses to himself as to why that stupid idiot wasn’t in on the fray. _Probably other orders, probably on the other side of the park, probably..._

 

He rides up to Kamamoto with an unreadable expression. There’s a reason he’s been called here, but he hasn’t quite wrapped his head around it yet, because despite what they told him over the phone, _despite the anxiousness in Kamamoto’s voice saying that he needed to get here fast,_ he isn’t quite ready to accept it.

 

Kamamoto’s expression on the other hand is troubling; he’s biting his lip and silently debating with himself before saying nothing more than “Follow me!” and running off, and Yata swallows a lump in his throat at how this doesn’t feel good, there’s something wrong and _why is he even here, this has nothing to do with the reds and they can’t just go fighting other clans now that theirs is broken and -_

 

And his heart stops in his chest and he stops breathing for a total of _one, two, three, four, five_ seconds when Kamamoto comes to a stop in front of the limp figure lying in the grass, a ways off from the battle, with blood soaking through that stupid, stupid, stupid blue uniform, and he almost screams but he pulls himself together and rushes to his side because _what the fuck, what the fuck, why?_

 

“S-Saruhiko, oi! The fuck are you doing just _lying_ there?!” He yells, because that’s the only way he knows how to deal with this right now. His fingernails are digging into his palm and his heart restarts with a vengeance, pounding painfully as he waits _one, two, three, four, five, six seconds_ for a reply.

 

There’s a familiar _tch_ and he feels relieved, but not too much because _fuck, that took too long_ , and he could hear the struggling breaths after that one sound and it’s doing nothing but worrying him endlessly. There are no words, because the stupid monkey chokes and there’s blood trailing down his mouth now and if he had to say so, he would say that he kneeled next to the younger boy, kneeled, not _fell_ because his legs were shaking or anything like that. His hands aren’t shaking or anything like that either, he’s just being _careful_ about peeling back that stupid, sticky coat because he doesn’t want any of it on him, that’s all. He doesn’t freeze at the low hiss Saruhiko gives in response, that was pure imagination.

 

But _fuck_ if he could play off and make an excuse for the choked gasp that he makes when he confirms that the blood _isn’t_ from some green bastard’s, it’s _his_ and this is really _serious_ and -

 

“Why the fuck didn’t you call an ambulance?!” He snaps at Kamamato, who panics slightly as he explains that he did and that they still haven’t arrived yet and how he felt Yata should’ve known, because -

 

And he tunes the older man out, because Saruhiko’s hand grabs onto his shaking one, and _fuck that’s embarrassing, he’s not the one lying down dy..._

 

They lock eyes. His amber ones with Saruhiko’s dark, unfocused ones and for a moment he wants to punch the traitor because not only did he betray HOMRA back then, he’s betraying _them_ now, because _didn’t he make a promise about not dying, after Mikoto-san?_ But he holds himself together, and pulls his trembling hand away to grab onto his sweater and press it against offending wound, wincing at the pained cry that comes from his on-and-off best friend. He mutters softly how _you won’t die ‘cause it hurts, you’ll die if I don’t do something about it_ , but that doesn’t stop the screams as much as he thought they would’ve.

 

It’s _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven_ minutes after Saruhiko quiets before Kamamoto comes running from the street, having flagged down that ambulance, and leads them to them. He almost doesn’t want them to take him, because he’s been doing so well, the stupid monkey is still breathing so he’s doing good and _who knows what would happen if he let his eyes off him now?_   But he gives in, lets the professionals lift his best friend onto a stretcher and take him into the back of the vehicle and hook him up to all kinds of machines and then close the door after asking him a question that he honestly didn’t hear.

And then his world erupts in sounds.

 

Sirens, screams, sobbing, and after a short check, he finally notices that the Green King has fallen and that there were a _lot_ more ambulances and medical personnel than he’s seen before. He feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up, _and when did Kusanagi-san get here?_

 

The bar owner says something about visiting and Yata already knows what he’s talking about, and takes off without second thought.

 

\---

 

It’s _one, two, three, four, five_ days before he gets to see Saruhiko awake and alert and sitting up in the hospital bed, and his heart imitates a hammer in his chest. There’s flowers on the bedside stand, with a tag that says a generic _get well_ along with a signature that he _thinks_ says Awashima Seri. But Saruhiko isn’t a flower person, Yata knows, so there’s a small bubble of pride when the dark eyes look up from the handheld game and meet his at the doorway. There’s _one, two, three, four_ seconds of meaningful silence, and then -

 

“You’re late.”

 

Yata steps in with a mock-irritated look, but it’s only just barely hiding the happiness that he’s feeling in his stomach as he sits next to bed, feigning nonchalance.

 

“Nice to see you’re back to normal.” He says with a fake sarcastic tone, not looking at the younger directly because he knows he could see right through him, and he leans back against the chair with his hands laced behind his head. From his awkward position, he eyes the screen in Saruhiko’s hands, and promptly freezes.

 

“H-How long have you been playing that?!” Yata mistakenly jumps up, the chair makes an awkwardly loud noise as it hits the wall behind him, and Saruhiko clicks his tongue.

 

“Two, maybe three hours?”

 

Yata gapes, sputters, “I-I... How the fuck did you get past the third level!?” and grabs the chair, hastily drags it closer to the bed and glues himself to the game screen. He tells himself that he doesn’t catch the fond look in that stupid monkey’s eyes at his outburst, tells himself to ignore the soft chuckle, tells himself that leaning on the bedside like this was purely to see the game better.

 

He’s impatient for exactly _one, two, three_ seconds and is about to yell at the Scepter 4 agent for the game secret again, but then there’s a light weight on the top of his head and he tenses as it ruffles his hair and he _dares, chances_ a look up at him, at his best friend.

 

It’s _one, two_ seconds until he reminds himself to _breathe,_ because the look on Saruhiko’s face was full of happiness. It’s the first time he’s ever seen that look before, even back when they used to hang out all the time, and there’s a fleeting thought that if he had been even slightly late five days ago, he would’ve never gotten to see this. It’s a look that causes Yata’s chest to tighten, and he feels his face getting warmer before sputtering out, “W-What’s that look for, you bastard?”

 

Saruhiko’s eyes soften and Yata notices and it doesn’t help the flush on his face, but luckily the stupid monkey slips into his normal character in _one_ second and flicks him on the forehead, drawling out his name in a teasing tone.

 

“Misaakii~ Are you still this bad at games?”

 

And with that they slip back to how it used to be, except with less punching on Misaki’s behalf because Saruhiko’s _lucky he’s still healing_ , but that doesn’t stop Saruhiko from using it to his advantage and taunting him. Yata promises revenge once the _stupid bastard_ is discharged and healed, but even he could hear how empty the threats are so he _knows_ Saruhiko can hear it too, and he’s sure that he’s not commenting on it because he wants to use it against him at some point in time.

 

Visiting hours ends too soon and he can feel his own disappointment down to the pit of his stomach as he gets up to leave, leaving Saruhiko with another game that he brought over so that he wouldn’t be bored. He doesn’t say _goodbye_ or _hurry up_ _and get well_ because his voice is caught in his throat, but before he steps out of the door, Saruhiko’s voice stops him with a plain “Thank you, Misaki.”

 

Yata stops for seconds that he didn’t bother counting, hides the smile and the blush on his face because he knew it wasn’t _just_ about the game. So he bucks up, throws a grin over his shoulder and _fuck hiding, he knows anyway, doesn’t he?_

  
“Y-Yeah. Anytime.”


End file.
